Take Me Back
by PoeticallyPathetic19
Summary: Sam's back from Stanford and it's about time the boys tied up a few loose ends...Wincest as usual.
1. Chapter 1

_So take me back, back to better days  
Cause this time between is wasting me away  
So take me back, when we were not afraid  
Cause this time between is wasting me away_

Wasting me away, Waste away  
So now we're running, we're running blind into the light  
And we fall behind  
We're running and wasting away with time 

-

Story Of The Year: "Take Me Away"

He should have known this was coming really. How long did he actually think that he would be able to avoid this conversation with his brother? They'd been on the road together for months and things had been tense.

Always tense.

It was inevitable. As much as Dean hated emotions, hated having them, hated talking about them, it would always be there between them. And that meant having a conversation neither one of them really wanted to have.

This conversation.

About why he left.

"Dean," he sighed. "Don't do this."

"Do what Sam? Ask you about your apple pie life?"

"You're not asking about my life, you're putting it down."

Dean shrugged. "Isn't that what you've always done to mine?"

He winced at his brother's comeback. That wasn't fair. Dean's life had been Sam's and he had hated it, hated watching his brother sacrifice, hated taking from his brother, hated pushing him into things he couldn't want.

Like being with him.

His brother talked about it like Sam had spent his life putting Dean down. As if he really looked down on his older brother for dropping out of high school and avoiding college all together in order to follow after their father. When that couldn't be more untrue.

He worshipped his brother, always had. And school, grades, whatever else, wasn't going to change that. Could _never _change that. But Dean never saw that, all he saw was his younger brother moving on.

Without him.

Like going to Stanford could change the things between him or the way that Sam saw him. It was insane, so lacking in confidence he couldn't believe Dean would even think of it. But he had. For all his cocky remarks and his in your face attitude, he lacked more confidence then Sam had ever seen in someone.

"We shared that life," Sam reminded him. "It was as much mine as yours."

Dean snorted, this time obvious in his attack. "It was never yours, Sam. You were always meant for something better. Something _normal_." He spit out the last word as if it left a terrible aftertaste in his mouth.

That hurt more than anything Dean had ever said to him, including the harsh words they'd had when he left. It hurt worse because he was making it seem as if Sam really had never loved Dean. Like they were different in a way they shouldn't be. But Dean had been this way his whole life.

He'd always put Sam up on a pedestal, kept this distance between them. It was no use telling Dean otherwise because he didn't listen. He only argued with Sam or brushed it off, joked about it. It wasn't funny to Sam though. He wasn't any better than his brother, no matter what Dean believed.

"It was as much mine as you let it be, Dean. You were the one that pushed me away from this, from you, from everything."

"I didn't make you leave Sam; you did that all on your own."

Sam bit down hard on his lip, fighting the words he knew would only hurt his brother more, back. And that wasn't what this was about. What any of this was about. This was about the two of them, about Dean's need to keep Sam close and so far away at the same time. And Sam's inability to just let things drop sometimes.

Like now.

Each had returned to their old ways; one pushing and one pulling. Each wanting the same thing and going about it in their own screwed up way. The wrong ways. One hurt the other deliberately; the other tried desperately to push things without breaking.

Neither seemed to be able to fix things.

"I didn't want to leave Dean. It wasn't personal." _Not in the way you think anyway_, he adds silently.

Dean snorts. "How could it not be personal? You left. It doesn't get more personal than that."

"I didn't do it to hurt you."

"No you just wanted something better."

Sam stared down at his shoes, biting hard enough on his lip to make it bleed. Something better than Dean? He'd yet to find any such thing. And if his older brother could point him in that direction he'd gladly follow, because it was Dean. Because he was sick of being in love with an older brother that hated him, that would never allow the things that had happened between them then, happen now. Because he was sick of imaging and remembering the things he'd done with him, how his body looked and felt and tasted.

He was sick of watching his brother through half mast eyes as he came out of the bathroom, towel hanging loosely from his hips. He was sick of watching him get dressed, the ripple of muscles as he threw his clothes on indifferent to anything and everything around him but the hunt. And more than anything he was sick of the empty bed every night, while Dean slept in the next bed over, separated only by a cheap nightstand.

"We were never enough for you, were we Sammy?"

Dean's voice was so broken, more than he'd ever heard. More than Dean had ever allowed him hear. And it was more than he could take.

"You want to know why I fucking left?" Sam spat, whirling around to face his equally tormented brother.

His face was flushed with anger and pain, misery, confusion and a thousand other things Sam couldn't place. That Dean couldn't place even as he realized his brother's face mirrored his own. They stood facing one another, faces mirrors, hands curled into fists as they panted and glared.

Waiting.

Waiting for Sam's words to crush and destroy what little was left between them.

To destroy instead of mend. And to fully break what was left of Dean's control.

But he just couldn't take it anymore. Couldn't take the pain in his older brother's voice, the accusing tone. To be constantly reminded of how little Dean thought of himself, how worthless he seemed to feel without Sam or dad's validation. He just wanted Dean back in his life, wanted to be happy with him again. Like nothing had ever happened.

"I left because he fucking told me to! I left because if I didn't you were going to pay for it. I left to fucking protect you so stop with the guilt trips! I didn't want to leave; I never fucking wanted to leave!"

Dean's face went blank to match his mind. He blinked slowly and stared at Sam in wait. His words made no sense. Dad would never send Sam away, had never wanted Sam anywhere but with them. He was their family, his youngest son. Why would he send him away? And what the hell did all that have to do with Dean?

"What the hell are you talking about?" he asked calmly.

"I'm talking about how dad told me to get the hell out. I'm talking about the day he sent you into town and everything got fucked up! I didn't want to leave, why is that so hard for you to believe?"

"Dad wouldn't do that."

"Oh and I would just walk away from you for the hell of it. Because I wanted to see you hurt, right? After everything you've given me, you think I could just walk away from you, feeling the way I feel for you?" Sam made a sound of disgust.

"Dad wouldn't do that," Dean repeated.

That's right; forget that Sam loved him, that Sam craved him. Forget that he was the one that wanted a real relationship with Dean. Forget that and everything else between them, because dad could never push Sam away, right? Dad could never do anything wrong. Like Sam, until he'd left.

If he wanted to get through to him he was going to have to change tactics, because reasoning, explaining, and fighting weren't working.

"Why would I want to leave you, Dean?" Sam pleaded, his fingers curling into his brother's shirt. "Why would I do that?"

"That's you Sam, I can't answer that."

"He knew something wasn't right between us. The way I depended on you and you gave in." Sam shook his head. His father had had a point and a good reason to be suspicious but that didn't excuse what he'd done to them. How he'd torn them apart.

"We could have talked it out, figured something out. You didn't have to leave," Dean insisted, staring back at Sam unfeelingly.

Sam loosened his grip on Dean's shirt and found himself standing a little further back. How could that not change something in Dean? He knew his brother would never forgive him and couldn't blame him for that. He'd hurt them both deeply. But dad had known something wasn't right and that had to count for something.

"I didn't have a choice."

He winced as soon as the words were out of his mouth. He always had a choice. He could have been honest with his brother in the first place and they could have talked it out. Or he could have at least been up front with him about why he was leaving so soon and without him. Hell, that he was leaving at all.

And Dean called him on it.

"You should have told me. Said something other than goodbye."

Fuck. It just wasn't that easy.

"He didn't give me a choice Dean."

"Sam, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Dad. He didn't give me a choice. If I stayed things were going to change and if I couldn't deal with that then I needed to leave. And if I left, there was no coming back. I did what I had to."

"No, you did what you wanted to," Dean argued.

"Like hell!" Sam cried. "You think I wanted to leave you? To mess up what we had? You can keep telling yourself that all you want, but it's a lie. I did this for you!"

Dean snorted. "Whatever man."

Dean turned on his heel, the conversation over as far as he was concerned. They weren't going to agree on this and it didn't matter. Things were over between them and what mattered was finding dad and the demon that had killed their mother and Sam's Jess. Jealousy flared in him and he quickly pushed it aside, replacing it with guilt. If Sam didn't want him it wasn't Jess's fault. He'd found her after he left. There was no reason for her to die.

Sam grabbed hold of Dean's wrist. This conversation was far from over. How were they going to work together if Dean hated him? He had asked Sam's help in finding dad, nothing more. But Sam wanted more, needed more. He couldn't leave things this way between them. He'd known this day would come and he would have to face the fact that his brother hated him. Knowing it and seeing it, hearing it, feeling it from Dean was something completely different. It hurt a hundred times more.

"You don't understand," he pleaded. "Just listen."

"There's nothing to understand Sam. You left. End of story."

"No, not end of story! I didn't want to leave, I didn't have a choice!"

"You keep saying that, Sam. But you left. What else matters?"

"I came back."

"To help find dad after I forced you into it, after the demon killed your girlfriend. Because let's face it. If it hadn't there's no way you'd be here now. Fuck dad and me, right Sammy? All that matters is your apple pie life."

Dean bit down hard on his tongue, punishing himself for the harsh and undeserving words he'd thrust on Sam. That wasn't fair and he knew it. But it hurt that his brother hadn't called or written, hadn't answered any of his calls and when he asked for his help, for dad's sake and not his own his baby brother had been able to fight him on it.

To agree only to help for a weekend, his apple pie life waiting at home in the form of a beautiful girl and an interview to determine the rest of his life. The life he wanted. The life he'd chosen over his family. Over the brother he swore up and down to love. He didn't know how else to deal with it then to lash out at him.

"It figures you'd think that. It was always easier to believe the worst about me than dad, huh Dean? Being dad's good little soldier."

"That's shit man. I never believed anything bad about you."

"You think I walked out on you. That's not bad?"

"You did, Sam. You walked out. You got on that bus and you left. No letters, no phone calls, nothing. If your precious girlfriend hadn't died you wouldn't be here, if you didn't feel guilty, you'd be there with her right now instead of talking to me.

"And you know what, maybe that'd be better. So why don't you go back to Stanford and find yourself a new girlfriend. Leave me to find dad. Like you said, I don't need the help, right?"

His words were sharp and biting, uncalled for like most of what he'd said today to his brother. But he wanted to finish things between them. Wanted to push Sam away before he could get any ideas about them or erase any wonder he had left. Sam may be able to walk away from what they'd had but Dean couldn't and he wouldn't be left alone again.


	2. Chapter 2

"Fuck you," he breathed. Because what else could he really say? He'd got what he'd wanted, he'd hurt Sam. He'd called him on the guilt he felt over Jess's death and all the things he'd fucked up. There was no doubt in his mind what his brother thought of him now. "Just fuck you man."

He'd loved Jess, but not the same way he loved Dean. And Jess had always known that.

Well, she'd known that there was some else. Someone from his past that he loved, craved, needed. And she'd understood that this was someone he could never get over. She just didn't know that it was his brother.

Dean clenched his jaw tighter to keep the words _I'm sorry, Sammy, so sorry, _from tumbling out of his mouth. He hadn't done all this to pull Sam closer to him, he'd done it to push him away and he had to remember that. Or he was going to get hurt all over again.

"You didn't even tell her about me, Sam. She didn't know you had a fucking _brother_. So try and talk your way out of that one, blame dad, blame me, blame whoever. But she didn't know."

"You're right; she didn't know you were my brother."

Sam watched as Dean's face fell before quickly returning to his favorite of cool indifference. Good. He'd felt that. That meant there was something still there. And that Sam wasn't the only one suffering in this conversation.

"But she knew about you," he finally admitted quietly, no longer able to stand the pain he knew was hidden by that face he hated so much. Let Dean say what he wanted to about Sam, let him hurt him, but he wasn't going to do that. He wasn't going to play that game.

"Old buddy from high school? That how you covered your tracks that night?"

He'd seen the confusion on Jess's face when she'd found the two of them in the living room. She hadn't known who he was until Dean had introduced himself. And then it was just surprise, not remembrance.

"She knew about you long before you came to the apartment, Dean. She knew everything."

Dean froze. "Everything about what?" he asked cautiously.

"Us."

"She didn't know I was your brother…how could she?"

"She knew there was someone in my past, someone I loved…"

Dean snorted, "Dude, spare me the lame chick flick moments." He would never admit it but his heart had simultaneously sunk and soared. The word love enough to send his heart into an erratic rhythm and the past tense of it crushing.

"You asked," Sam bit out.

"And you haven't answered," Dean shot back.

"I moaned your name during sex, more than once. She wasn't stupid. When she asked me who Dean was I told her the truth that you were my brother. But she didn't believe me. I mean, who fucks their big brother," he scoffed, "right? So I told her the truth, I just didn't correct her again when she brought you up."

"You moaned my name during sex?" Dean laughed bitterly. "I really fucked you up didn't I? Funny how that works. I fucked you up and you fucked me over." _Big time,_ he added silently.

Sam sighed in frustration. Dean just didn't get it. He couldn't believe that Sam had left for any other reason than to hurt him. Because, really why else would he leave, right? Only to hurt Dean, because that was all Sam ever seemed to do.

"I can't make things right between us, I can't change the fact that I left, for whatever reason. So I don't know what to do," Sam admitted, staring blankly at Dean. "I don't know where that leaves us."

"Same place as before."

Yeah. That was helpful. Sam hadn't known where they stood in years.

"It's like talking to myself," he muttered. Shaking his head he spared his brother one last glance before heading into the motel room.

He didn't hear Dean behind him and few seconds later the roar of the Impala told him why. He was running away from him the same way he'd accused Sam of doing earlier.

Kicking off his shoes, he pulled clean clothes from his duffel and headed for the shower. He needed time to think, to clear his head. His brother wasn't much help on how to fix things, like he didn't even care. But whether he cared or not, Sam did and that was all he needed to know.

He wasn't going to spend all this time searching for dad in gut wrenching tension. He'd rather eat his own gun. At least that would have a more merciful end than the one he was anticipating from Dean.

And when they found dad?

God only knew. Dad had told him if he left to stay gone, which is exactly what he'd done. He hadn't counted on Dean coming for him for anything and he was sure dad hadn't either. Not like this anyway.

A family reunion was looking even less appealing with every damn suffocating second he spent trapped with Dean. He snorted as he turned the shower as high as he could get it, not caring that it was practically hot enough to melt his skin off. The last time he'd cursed being trapped with Dean it was because dad hadn't left them alone in over a month and the most he'd been able to get out of his brother was a kiss here and there.

Now he was cursing him because he wanted to fuck him _and_ kill him. An interesting combination and not necessarily the greatest of choices. But still. As bad as things were now, they would only get worse with time.

He wasn't even sure how today's…conversation, had gotten started. For months they'd avoided, they'd avoided the unnecessary chick flick moments and feelings, doing little more than watching each other's backs on hunts. Yet somehow today things had taken them in a completely different direction.

They'd just finished up a routine haunting, hardly cause for the two of them, and were heading back to the motel. It was tension and silence, surprise, surprise, the whole way back. Then…then what?

They'd fought. They'd lashed out at each other. They'd gone backwards instead of forwards.

Sam sighed and pressed his face against the shower wall, the cool tile combined with the steaming hot shower making him sick. Or maybe it was just how things had ended on harsh words and no resolution.

Wasn't that how all their fights ended? Wasn't that the Winchester way? Screw talking things out and trying to fix them, let's just hurt or kill each other. That's easier than having an uncomfortable conversation. That shock of all shocks they did in fact have emotions.

But would Dean ever admit to something like that? He doubted it. He was a hunter, a Winchester and that was all he would let himself be. At one time, what seemed like decades ago, he'd been a big brother and a lover, but now it was back to Winchester/hunter.

Lover was a long way off from what they were now, or could probably ever be again. The more things went on, the less they talked, and the more doubt he had that they'd ever get the chance to be _brothers _again, let alone lovers.

Those days were over.

Because of one fucking mistake.

One huge fucking mistake.

Sam's stomach rolled and he had to shut his eyes against the dizzying double vision. It was time to get out of the shower before he killed himself. That was just what he wanted Dean to find when he came back to the motel. Or if, he came back.

No, he snapped, forcing that thought from his mind. No matter how angry he was with Sam, he wouldn't just leave him here. Not after everything else.

He wondered sourly if that was something Dean had thought before _he_ had left.

What did it matter now? Dean came back or he didn't. Sam had no control over his brother, not anymore.

Those days too were over.

Dad was the only person who meant anything anymore to Dean, the only person that had a right to tell him anything. Because of one god damn mistake that had been as much his father's as his own.

Okay, maybe not as much. Hell, he didn't know anymore. It was so easy to blame his dad, but it wasn't fair and it wouldn't be completely true. He could have done some things differently. Could have said things differently. But he hadn't. He'd let dad bully him and push him like always, until he would up hurting not only himself, but Dean.

Angrily he shoved his clothes on and tossed the towel over the shower rail. He was vibrating with tension sitting here thinking of all the things that had happened and would never happen again. He was getting himself all worked up with no release. No way out of any of this.

Even if he really wanted to go back to Stanford there was nothing left for him there. Jess had been the only thing tying him there and now she was gone. He had no excuse to stay away from his brother, other than the one he couldn't tell him.

School wasn't enough of a reason anymore as pathetic as that was. Because dad was missing and didn't that mean more than some higher learning education? He was family. That was supposed to mean something.

Yeah, it was supposed to.

But it didn't.

Not much anyway.

Dean was his family. Past tense, most definite. The same went for dad. As far as Sam could see he was completely on his own now. He didn't even have a big brother to fall back on and that made him feel more alone than he'd ever felt in his life.


	3. Chapter 3

It was after dark when Dean returned. Earlier then Sam had expected but late enough that it had Sam pacing. Then again Dean could have come back five minutes after Sam had gotten out of the shower and he still would have been pacing. His stomach was so twisted up in knots, he didn't know what do with himself.

"I know you don't really trust me right now, you're still pissed at me but you have to believe that I didn't want this," Sam started the minute he walked through the door.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean snapped. He didn't know what Sam was saying and he didn't care. He'd just walked through the door and all he could see was Sam standing before him in nothing but his jeans. If he wanted to have a conversation he should have put some damn clothes on.

He swallowed hard and tried to focus on something other then his younger brother's body. He hadn't changed much, not physically anyway. He was still lean, hard muscle and tan skin. Same scars, same sweet, inviting Sammy with his too long hair and wide, chocolate brown eyes.

His hands itched to trace the lines of Sam's body, to relearn every inch of him. He knew how he would taste, salty and sweet-like Sammy. But what his body was telling him wasn't anywhere near what his mind was telling him, or his heart.

If he did what his body was telling him to they'd be in a more complicated place then they already were. And that was not something he wanted or needed. They were supposed to find dad and then part company. Wasn't that the plan?

Finally reigning in his hormones he listened to Sam's reasoning, his explanations, whatever it was he would call them and felt his stomach roll. He almost wished he hadn't been able to control his hormones at least then it would shut Sam up.

"I'm talking about us, Dean. It's like we're not even…"

Even what? He didn't remember signing up for some sharing, caring, support group, therapy hippie crap. He'd gone after his younger brother's help in finding dad, in fighting a few things along the way. That was all.

Without a word he turned on his heel and walked right back out of the motel room before he had a chance to do something stupid. Why had he come back in the first place? Sure he couldn't leave Sam there, he needed his help to find dad but he could have gone to a bar. Could have found a pretty young girl and fucked out his aggressions. Or had a few dozen beers. Maybe both.

Any one of those would have been better then coming back to this. To fucking walking, talking temptation and heart break.

Sam swore under his breath and followed him into the darkened parking lot. "Dean, c'mon! Man, we have to talk about this!"

"What's there to talk about, Sam? I'm all talked out from this afternoon."

He leaned back against the Impala, his arms crossed over his chest defensively. When he left the room he didn't want Sam following him, he was pretty sure that had been clear.

Sam clenched his jaw shut, preventing himself from lashing out like they'd done earlier. It hadn't gotten them anywhere before, it wasn't going to get them anywhere now. And he wanted things back to some kind of brotherly understanding.

"Look, there's something I didn't tell you before, about dad and leaving…"

"What?" Dean asked, his spine straightening against the side of the Impala. He cursed himself silently for responding so eagerly. He was the one who'd just complained of being all talked out and here he was setting himself up for another fight.

"He made me leave Dean, you don't want to believe that, I get it…but when I say he made me leave, I mean he made me leave."

"Sam, dad didn't want you gone anymore than I did."

Sam snorted. Could his brother be any further from the truth at all? He didn't think so. "No, he really did. He knew about us Dean, about the things we'd been doing…" he ducked his head, avoiding his brother's questioning gaze. This wasn't easy for him to admit to anyone, especially Dean. And he wasn't ready to spill the gory details.

Not right now.

"What needed to change was us. And I couldn't accept that. Maybe you could," Sam snorted again. Like there was really a question of what his brother could do. "You could turn around and act like nothing happened, be the good little soldier. But that was never me Dean. I'm not you. Besides that he was right and I didn't want to admit it."

"Right about what?" Dean asked, completely ignoring Sam's accusations.

"If I stuck around, you were going to die. Sooner, rather than later. Then what would I do? There was no reason to stay without you." Sam raised a hand before Dean could protest that and start in on family and having to stick together, because they just didn't agree on that point and they never would. "I know how you feel about the whole family thing, believe me. But I just don't see it like that. We haven't been a family in a long time. I don't know if we ever were."

"We were Sammy. When mom was here and you were a baby, we were a great family. After that I did my best, but there was only so much I could give you."

Sam felt tears sting the back of his eyes and he turned his head to the side, looking out at the dark sky. This had been his idea, he'd started this conversation. He couldn't back out now. But how did he tell his older brother how much he really loved him, how grateful he was for all the things he'd done, all the things Dean had sacrificed for Sam?

It was hard enough to say those words to anyone, but Dean? Dean would make it impossible. He just didn't want to hear things like that, couldn't let himself believe it for some reason.

"You gave more than enough. It was never about that. You've always been my family."

"Dad is too, Sammy."

"I guess," he shrugged. "It's just always been different with you."

Dean sighed. "I guess that's my fault."

"You'd guess wrong."

"Then what? He's your father." Dean practically scolded.

"It takes more than blood to be a father, Dean. I'm not saying that I don't love dad, because I do. It's just _different_ with you. You were the one that took care of me all those years. You were father, mother, brother. You were everything to me."

"That's why you left," Dean raised his eye brows and nodded in mock understanding. "Makes sense."

"You're never going to let me make this right, are you?"

"There's nothing to make right Sam. We just have to find dad."

"Yeah," he said nodding. "Sure."

What else could he say? Dean didn't want this, didn't want _any _of this. He'd been wrong about there being something left between them. This whole thing really had been all about dad.

He watched his brother's full mouth twist and pout as he clenched his jaw shut, his moss green eyes flashing, daring Sam to tell him he was wrong. He wanted to tell him he was wrong, but he couldn't speak for Dean. And he'd been trying to speak for himself all day. That hadn't been working out too well either.

He found his gaze returning to his brother's mouth, desire building low in his belly. For a second he wondered what Dean would do if he just went for it. If he said _fuck it, _and crushed his mouth to his and let his body do all the talking Dean didn't want to hear.

His brother was walking, talking sin. Sex on legs. And as much as Sam had loved being with Dean, that wasn't his biggest attraction. If his brother didn't want to be physical, that was one thing. Torture, sure, but it was better then his brother's complete hatred.

Dean on the other hand had always been easier to persuade with the physical. Maybe that _was_ the way to go. At least then his intentions would be clear to Dean without all the 'chick flick moments' he loved to run from.

But with the way things were, he'd probably only make things worse. He forced his eyes back up to Dean's and shook his head. He was tired of this. Tired of chasing his brother, tired of feeling like the enemy, tired of feeling like just didn't belong here anymore. He just wanted to sleep and forget today like he knew Dean would.

Knowing the conversation was over he headed back into the hotel and kicked off his jeans. Dean would either follow or he wouldn't, it really didn't matter, did it? They were going to forget today and move on tomorrow. Keep searching for dad, keep pretending things were fine, and keep pretending they'd never been anything.

Not even brothers.

Tossing his jeans on top of his duffel bag he crawled into the bed furthest from the door, like always. At least some things never changed. The instinct to protect Sam was the only thing left. Not love, or trust, but obligation.

He squeezed his eyes shut against the image of Dean kicking the motel door closed behind him and pulled the pillow over his head. Everything would be different in the morning he reminded himself.

Dean dropped down on his bed and did his best to ignore Sam. He was getting sick of those puppy dog eyes and his pleading. He always knew how to make Dean cave and it pissed him off. The only thing he hadn't done was try using his touch or kiss to coax him into forgiveness.

That would be what broke him.

Stretching he changed out of his clothes and did the usual nightly routine, salt lines and all before climbing into his own bed. He could hear Sam's breath slowing, his body rising and falling deeply.

He laid on his back and stared up at the ceiling, listening to his brother's breathing before making a decision. Just because things were over, didn't mean he had to let Sam suffer over something so insane.

"You're wrong, Sammy," Dean said quietly into the dark.

"About what?" he mumbled, rolling over onto his side.

"I couldn't have walked away from you. Not even for dad. You're the only one I could do that for," he admitted. He knew that Sam couldn't see him and maybe now was the best time for this, when those too knowing eyes couldn't stare back at him pleadingly, expectantly, as they always had. Whether Sam knew it or not. "I just thought you needed to know that for next time you try to guilt trip me," he added.

Dean rolled over, facing away from Sam and buried his head beneath the pillow. If Sam had an answer he didn't want to hear it until he was unconscious.


	4. Chapter 4

-Note- Omg, I'm finally posting again. It's been like two weeks and it's killing me! Finally I got something though! -dances- I so need reviews, you have no idea people! Oh and I'm begging you, one of you who loves me -gets down on knees- I need someone to help me out with something involving my fics, so if you want to help or just love me enough to put up with me PLEASE message me! -Note-

Sam groaned and threw an arm over his face. What the hell was that sound? That loud ringing in his freaking ears. He hadn't gone out drinking last night, he'd left that up to Dean. He was the one that should have ringing in his ears, not Sam.

Exhausted and frustrated with everything, including the damn ringing he started to roll over and bury his head beneath the pillows and blankets when he realized what it was. The ringing in his ears was Dean's cell phone.

Yes, of course it would be Dean's cell phone ringing at the crack of dawn because life did not suck enough for him. After Dean's confession last night he'd barely slept at all. It had taken hours of tossing and turning to fall asleep. His mind was in overdrive, his heart racing to match.

Dean couldn't walk away from him? Not even for Dad? Dean could say that to him everyday for the rest of their lives and it would have the same effect every time. It was just too unreal for him to even consider it.

Which was probably stupid because who thought falling in love with your brother was possible in the first place? What was so crazy about the idea of your brother choosing you over your father when the two of you were in love? And if it wasn't love, it was at the very least the best sex either had ever had. Sam was betting it was love.

Or it had been love anyway, before he'd messed things up. Still, Dean had seemed so honest and convincing when he'd told Sam that. He'd rolled over and gone to sleep, his sharing capacity long since met, and left Sam with that little bit of knowledge. Not that Sam had even expected that much from him. Dean was angry with Sam but he wasn't going to let it color the truth. He'd proven that last night.

Sam propped himself up on one elbow and glared at his sound sleeping older brother. Sighing he reached over and grabbed Dean's cell phone. He obviously wasn't going to be waking up anytime soon, no matter how many times the phone went off. And after last night the last thing he wanted to do was piss Dean off. They might actually be making some progress to, at the very least, a truce.

"Hello?" He mumbled.

"Sam, is that you?"

"Who-" Sam stopped, recognizing the voice. _Shit. _His tongue felt heavy and his head light. This was not happening to him, not now. He'd known this moment would come but he hadn't expected it to come so soon when they were finally headed somewhere than at each other's throats. Last night had sent him spinning, this was too much. "Dad?" It was definitely Dad.

Sam jerked the phone away from his ear before he could hear Dad's reply. He didn't need it. He knew exactly who he was talking to and if he had something else to say, Sam didn't want to hear it.

He lunged out of bed and onto Dean's, shaking him violently. No, no he was not doing this. He'd agreed to help Dean find Dad, he hadn't said anything about actually talking to the old man. And especially not on Dean's cell phone while Dean fucking slept through it all.

This was Dean's mission and he could damn well deal with it.

His brother grunted and shoved at his hands. Sam resisted the urge to smack Dean and shook him harder. One knee was digging into Dean's back and that was as physical as he was willing to get right now. He wanted to wake Dean up not start a war.

xXx

Dean growled and rolled over onto his back. He opened one eye and shoved Sam to the floor. "The hell man?"

He didn't know what time it was but he didn't appreciate the wake up call. Especially not when Sam had his damn knee digging into his back and his hands rattling him into consciousness. He was tired and sick of the emotional bullshit. If Sam wanted to have another talk he could wait until Dean was ready to get up.

Dean propped himself up on his elbows and opened his mouth, a biting remark on his tongue. He paused and took a second look at Sam. He looked terrified, Dean realized. Sam's annoying wake up call had been out of panic, not out of the need to piss him off.

. His stomach flip flopped and his heart followed a second later with a skipped beat. He sat up quickly. "What? Sammy, what's wrong?" he demanded.

xXx

Sam had a split second to revel in the warmth that spread through his body at the nickname only his brother got away with calling him before he remembered that there was a reason for his freak out other than to get a rise out of Dean.

He shoved the phone at Dean, his hand shaking so hard he nearly dropped it. Dean had to take the phone now before he lost what was left of his cool. He hadn't talked to Dad since he'd left for Stanford and that was how he wanted to keep it.

Dad didn't want Sam to have any contact with Dean or him, and that would have worked just fine if he hadn't taken off. So really Dad had no one to blame but himself right not, but knowing that didn't make it any easier or make Sam any less terrified of what Dad would do or say.

It wasn't that Sam was afraid of what Dad would do to him, because he couldn't hurt Sam any more than he already had. But he didn't want to relive the last time they'd seen each other. He didn't want Dad reminding him of all the things he'd fucked up and all the things he was still fucking up. Especially not in front of Dean.

Sam hadn't asked to be here. He'd left like he should have four years ago and Dad's disappearing act had dragged him back to this uncomfortable existence where the only thing said were the things that hurt.

xXx

Dean took the phone and pressed it to his ear. "Hello?"

He watched Sam worriedly. The reply on the other end of the phone was all he needed to understand.

"Dad, it's me."

"You and your brother, you gotta stop looking for me. All right, now I need you to write these names down…"

Dean half listened to his father's instructions as he watched Sam. His brother's face was buried in his hands and he hadn't looked up once since Dean had taken the phone from him. He felt guilty for being so angry at Sam and shoving him to the floor. It was a stupid knee jerk reaction and it was completely uncalled for.

It wasn't just 'emotional bullshit' to Sam, not that that had even been his reason for waking him. Sam was really trying to reconnect with Dean, to mend whatever he could between them and Dean was taking that for granted. He was hurt, angry, and defensive and he had every right to be, but he was being selfish too. Dean hadn't once considered the way Sam must be feeling now.

He was more or less alienating Sam and refusing to even let him try to apologize or explain his actions. Dean knew that Sam hadn't set out to hurt him on some level, but it had fucking hurt more than anything in his life to watch Sam leave. It felt like he would never breathe again.

It hurt to see Sam this way now though too and Dean was going to have to find a way to put this shit behind him. Sam was back now, maybe not forever but he was back _now_, and shouldn't he take advantage of that while he could? Why make them both miserable when they could be happy?

Right now he'd give anything to see that Sammy smile again.

"What?" he said, suddenly noticing the silence on the other end of the phone. Dad had asked him something and he was waiting for an answer.

"Do you have a pen?" Dad repeated irritably.

"Uh, yeah, I got a pen. What are their names?"

Dean quickly took down their names and said his goodbyes. Normally he would have been excited to hear from down, in fact he should have been practically out of his mind with relief to hear from him after so long. But he wasn't. He felt angry and disconnected with Dad all of a sudden.

He'd been blaming Sam for everything for so long that until he'd seen Sam weird out on him, he hadn't really understood just how big a part Dad had played in this. Even if Sam had explained things, kind of.

"Jesus, Sammy. You scared the hell out of me," Dean muttered. He snapped the phone shut and dropped it on the nightstand. Dad was going to call back later and really Dean didn't give a damn. Not right now. "Next time try something like, _hey Dean, it's Dad _instead of trying to give me a heart attack, okay?"

Dean knew why Sam had been so panicked, or at least he thought he knew. After the way Sam had been describing things between him and Dad it wasn't that hard to guess. Still, he hadn't realized how bad it had been between them. Sam had seriously looked terrified. And he had never seen Sam look that scared in his entire life.

"What the hell happened, Sam?" Dean asked quietly. He slid off the bed to sit on the floor next to Sam and pressed their shoulders together. Dean knew how comforting it could be to just know that someone was there for you, even if it was just a light physical touch and he wasn't so angry that he wanted to break everything in Sam.

And if there was ever a time for him to give Sam the chance to really explain, now was it.

"Nothing," Sam answered mechanically.

"No, not nothing, Sam. _Something _happened or you wouldn't have freaked out like that. Fuck man, I haven't seen you that shaken up since…" He didn't even know. "What _happened_?"

xXx

Sam glanced at Dean and then back at the wall. What happened? That was an impossible question to answer. Anything he told Dean would be weak and watered down. He would have had to be there to really understand how badly it had shaken Sam, how fucked over he had felt.

Dad had said all the right things to rattle Sam, to scare him into leaving. It wasn't just the words either, it was the way he said it and the looks he shot Sam. It didn't help that Sam had an active imagination. And the fight he'd just had with Dean…he was fucked from the get go and Dad knew it. He used everything to his advantage to get what he wanted, to run Sam off.

"Nothing happened," Sam said again. "We just talked."

"About?"

"You, us. I already told you."

Dean shook his head. "No, you told me that he wanted you gone. That he knew about us and that things had to change. But that's it."

"Dad just wouldn't let up, okay? He kept saying how I was going to get you killed." Sam swallowed and scrubbed his hands over his face. "That's all I could think about, all I could see was you…all the ways I'd messed things up for you already and…." Sam trailed off, his eyes distant. He'd imagined Dean dying a hundred different ways and each time it was his fault. It would always be his fault, Dad had promised him that. "He wouldn't stop saying it."

Sam sounded so damn weak and he hated it. But everything he was saying was true. Dad hadn't let up, he'd just kept reminding Sam of all the ways he'd already ruined Dean and all the ways he could still ruin him-not that there was much left after all the things they'd done. There was no way in hell he was telling Dad that though. Dad would have killed him for sure then, maybe even Dean.

xXx

Dean couldn't imagine how much that had hurt to hear from Dad. If he had said those things to him about Sam, he wasn't sure what he would have done…he would have lost it, that he knew. He couldn't stand the thought of being Sam's downfall.

"I'm a big boy, Sam," Dean reminded him gently. "I can take care of myself."

"Not with me," he argued brokenly. "I told Dad that you could make your own decisions, that we were both old enough to decide this."

"And?"

"And he reminded me of all the times you'd been hurt on a hunt. All the mistakes you had ever made. Anything bad that had ever happened to you. And you know what the one commonality was, Dean?" Sam looked at him pointedly, his head cocked to the side in askance.

Fuck, this was wrong. Sam shouldn't be taking the blame for Dean's eventual death. He was always going to worry over Sam that was just a fact of life and neither of them could control that, no matter how badly Sam tried to hurt him. It was impossible for him to not love Sam. And why the hell should Sam take the blame for that?

"Sam-"

"Me," He finished, ignoring Dean's interruption.

"That's bullshit, Sam."

"Is it?" Sam shook his head. "I don't think so. Every time you got hurt it was because I screwed up or because you were too busy worrying about me. I was-"

"So what!" Dean snapped. He pushed to his feet and glared down at Sam. Who were they to decide what was right for Dean to worry about? Didn't Dad ever worry about him, or Sam? "So what if you were? That was my choice too, wasn't it? I chose to watch out for you, I chose to make sure that you were safe. What the hell's wrong with that? That's what you do when you love someone!" Wasn't it?

Dean froze. Fuck, he hadn't meant to say that. Not the last part anyway. This wasn't about who loved who, not on the surface anyway. It was about Sam leaving and not even giving Dean a say in any of it, even when it ripped his life apart. It didn't matter that Sam thought he was doing it _for_ Dean.

Sam ducked his head. "Yeah," He agreed weakly. "That is what you do when you love someone. The difference is, Dean, that you didn't have a choice. When mom died Dad pushed me on you. He couldn't see past-"

"All right, you know what, fuck that." Dean scoffed. He'd heard that story one too many times. He knew what had happened, he'd been there. He'd carried Sammy out of that house and was there every other damn step after. Didn't anyone else remember that? "Mom's dying had nothing to do with us, Sam."

"Didn't it? If she hadn't died can you honestly tell me you'd have ever loved me?"

"Yeah," Dean snapped. "I can. Maybe nobody's ever told you this, Sam, but I was always looking out for you." His love for Sam would never be questionable. No matter how much Sam psychoanalyzed things.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I know that. That's my point."

"No. It isn't." Dean shook his head. His brother was so dense sometimes. "I mean before mom even died, Sam. I went everywhere you did before anything ever happened to her." He watched Sam's face for some sign of understanding or realization and continued on in frustration when he got nothing. "I slept in your crib, I kissed you goodnight _every damn night_. Sam, mom's death had nothing to do with how I felt about you. I always felt like I had to protect you because you're my little brother. That's what older brothers do, man. Our lives were just more fucked, that's all. My protecting you was a little more dangerous. No big deal."

xXx

Sam gaped at him. "No big deal? When your older brother is constantly putting his life in danger for you, _that's_ a fucking big deal."

Dean let out a growl of frustration and threw his arms up. "That's our life! It's dangerous. Whether I looked after you or not, my life would be on the line every damn day. With you, it was just for a better reason."

"I couldn't be that for you." Sam slumped lower against the side of the bed. "I couldn't be a reason for you to get hurt."

"Too late, Sam. If you didn't want to be my reason you shouldn't have been born, kid. And we both know how much choice you had in that, right?" Dean shook his head. "I can't keep having this conversation with you. The fact is, Sam, that you're always going to be my reason. It doesn't matter how much either of us want it to be different, you're always going to be that for me. You leaving only made things harder for me."

"That wasn't what I wanted."

"What we want and what we get aren't always the same, Sam."

"Don't you think I know that?" He snapped. He couldn't know that any better, no matter what Dean thought. Sam pushed to his feet. "I couldn't lose you, can't you understand that? I couldn't be the reason you died or that things went bad between you and Dad. I didn't want you hating me for tearing up what was left of our family. But I guess that backfired, didn't it?"

Dean stood stiff and angry, no emotion on his face as Sam half pleaded with him for his understanding, for some kind of forgiveness. Then suddenly Sam was being jerked forward and hugged fiercely to Dean's body. His hand slid into Sam's hair and yanked him back before kissing him hard, biting and sucking at his mouth possessively.

"Don't ever fucking leave me again," Dean growled. "You don't make any fucking decision without me. Understood?"

"Never," Sam swore against his lips. "God, Dean. Never."


End file.
